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THE 



SHEPHERD OF THE WISSAHICKOK 



OTHER POEMS. 



JAMES 'MOORE, M.D., 

AUTHOR OF 

£HE KIMELIAD, HISTORY OF THE GREAT REBELLION, 
KILPATRICK AND OUR CAVALRY, Etc., Etc. 




PHILADELPHIA j 
1871. 



75 24-2,<) 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1870, 

By JAMES MOORE, M. D., 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



MY EXCELLENT FRIEND, 



law** &. partttt, <&%%» 



THIS WORK, INTENDED TO FURTHER THE CAUSE OF 

TRUTH, VIRTUE, AND PIETY, 

IS APPROPRIATELY DEDICATED AS A MARK OF 

AFFECTIONATE ESTEEM, 



§M \%t %\\\lm. 



Philadelphia, Dec. 1870. 



TO THE READER. 



o*J<o 



The scene is laid by thy romantic stream 

And rugged banks, enchanting Wissahickon ; 
Place not unfit for fervid poet's dream, 

Where oft ideal forms come swarming thick on. 
'Tis pleasant there to rove in summer day, 

7 Tis pleasant also when the leaves are falling, 
And some delight in Spring when buds look gay 

To wander there, or when hoarse winds are bawling. 
Seasons are oft alike whene'er the mind 

Is fitly tuned, and the imagination 
Can conjure up what scenes they wish to find, 

And fancy's creatures for their observation. 
Aerial beings still around are flocking, 

And spirits good and bad round earth are roving. 
Some weep our follies, some are ever mocking, 

But all are ever walking, flying, moving. 
I've met with people who want facts — the real, 

What is most practical, is all their study, 
That have no fancy, know not the ideal, 

Poring o'er dry statistics till they're muddy. 

(5) 



The same I've seen in the mere dry logician, 

Some business men, some brokers, the fair sex. 
Sometimes at least, and most the politician, 

These all did my poetic fanc} r vex. 
Bat if they want a book of facts, I offer 

My truthful History of the Great Rebellion ; 
And ten to one they don't accept the proffer, 

Then turn their features to a deep vermillion ; 
And this because they feel a flush of shame, 

Being caught without idea, never reading, 
I think such people very much to blame, 

Their manners seldom show refined breeding. 
For such my shepherd ne'er will tune his flute, 

His pipe or reed, or howsoe'er you name it ; 
They eat and drink, and for the rest are mute, 

They don't know music, ignorant of the gamut ; 
I don't suit them, they don't suit me, be sure, 

They never gave for work of mine a shilling, 
They'd see me starve because they think me poor ; 

I pass them by respectfully but willing. 
I'm richer than they know, my mind is teeming, 

And learned in lore they neither found nor sought; 
I'm not unread in men or arts, nor dreaming 

Of fancies ever, and the things of nought, 
For those, and such as those, who late my rhyme 

Both dearly bought and eager read, I write, 
And thank them for their favor many a time, 

And once again their careful thought invite. 



Nor if I can will they with ennui pine, 

Or unamused let pass a vacant hour, 
The task of deep instruction too is mine, 

My shepherd forth will high in wisdom tower. 
He with his fellow-shepherds will unfold 

What much will teach, for he is sage and witty, 
With attic salt combined, and though quite old, 

I trust he'll please the thriving Quaker City. 
I write for man through all this generation ; 

I write for women, these I much admire, 
As good and beautiful, and for each nation, 

Till time shall lapse, and earth consume in fire. 
For truth and virtue in my lays will blend, 

As in the Iris fairest colors glow, 
And thoughts will upwards wing ; their goal and end 

Immortal in their source and in their flow. 
Theocritus, though fine, is not my model, 

Nor Virgil, though melodious his song, 
Nor he who thought a poet needs to toddle 

Half drunk, or whole, if he would get along. 
Some heavenly thoughts from Moses I may borrow, 

Illustrious pastor, more than Greek refined, 
Who taught the chosen seed in joy and sorrow, 

With truth sublime to suit immortal mind. 
The staff or crook e'en flocks I'll oft omitting 

The hut — the fold — will take all at their leisure, 
Shepherds who know what is for man most fitting, 

And virtue is of happiness the measure. 



Their loves will be refined, as dewclrops pure, 

Their passions curbed, their aspirations high, 
No Sylph or 'Naiad their reason will allure, 

But modest shepherdesses still be by. 
No muse will I in thrilling strains invoke, 

Nor ask Apollo to inspire the lay, 
Nor fabled monster 'gainst the reason woke, 

For these though read in are not in mj^ way. 
No sordid knave will care this book to read, 

Nor wretch all drenched in villainy and crime, 
No profligate who never would take heed ; 

But such who know the value of their time. 
And such, some thoughts will find that may avail, 

To guide their bark along dark ocean's way, 
And cheer in dangers where each cheek is pale, 

And panic like a pall sinks on the gay. 



Smith. 

My days of life are drawing to a close, 

These scenes for me will shortly have an end, 
My sun will set as surely as it rose, 

On the divine decree all things depend. 
For four-score years my devious course has run, 

In changes varied, and 'midst toils and cares, 
One trouble ended, one again begun ; 

Thus has gone on my changing course of years. 
I've seen my parents in the grave laid low 

At early age, my wife in manhood's prime, 
My children yielded to our mortal foe, 

But two from ten are living at this time ; 
My best of friends are gone, but few remain 

Of all that knew me in my early life, 
Cut down as grass, they 'scaped a world of pain, 

And left the scenes of mortal, weary strife. 
Chill poverty for long my path assailed, 

And efforts strenuous proved unavailing, 
My schemes were vain, and all my labor failed ; 

So on life's ocean seldom 'tw r as plain sailing. 

(9) 



10 



Till m the end a friend of earlier days, 

Says, u John, our friendship parts, behold me 
dying ;" 
When moved I was, with faltering breath he says, 

"My time is short, now pray leave off your crying, 
For you must go and bring a notary here, 

I'll tell you then next what you'll have to do, 
You've been my friend in need for many a year, 

And I will show I've not forgotten you." 
The notary brought, he all at once conveyed 

His wealth to me, and, parting, grasped my hand, 
" My flocks, my lands, my all are yours," he said, 

" And bless you, John, and all your little band !" 
He said no more, and no reply was made, 

All stricken sudden with a bitter grief, 
His poor remains in lowly grave we laid, 

And mourned him long, till time brought some 
relief. 
For I have found that even deepest sorrow 

In time will mitigate, and lesser grow ; 
One day is different from the following morrow, 

Or else we could not stand our mortal woe. 
Thus Providence, whose ways are always wise, 

Bereft me of a kind and tender friend, 
And destined, while he to the skies should rise, 

My chilling want should quickly have an end. 
I prospered, and the world no more was cold, 

I money saved, and placed it in a bank, 



11 

" 'Twill help to keep me when I'm frail and old," 

Such were my thoughts, contentment then I drank. 
Soon failed the bank — the president absconded, 

And swept the savings of long years away ; 
One evil by another is attended, 

My sheep and cattle died from day to day ; 
And sorely grieving what might be the end 

For me, perhaps in hoary age to beg, 
I crossed a stile on business to attend, 

My balance lost, and then I broke my leg. 
A skillful surgeon soon restored each part 

That fractured was, and then the splints applied, 
And bandaged them with ready, easy art, 

Then said, " If you had broke your neck you'd 
died." 
And this w r as all he said ; I on it pondered, 

And, wondering, thought that matters might be 
worse, 
At my ingratitude I deeply wondered, 

And wondered more that God did not me curse. 
44 Alas I" I thought, " my Maker has been kind, 

His blessings flowing still on worthless me, 
Who to His mercies have in heart been blind ; 

But now by grace His loving hand I see." 
In deep contrition, I in secret bowed 

In deep submission to His sovereign sway ; 
''I'm in God's hand," I cried, and cried aloud, 

44 His name be blessed! He gives and. takes away." 



12 

Then growing well, my chamber I did range, 

On an old coffer then my gaze did fall ; 
For the first time it struck me as quite strange, 

Though there for years, I oped it not at all. 
Then trying frequent, and with many a key, 

My friend's old chest, that looked so soiled and old, 
Reveals its secret treasures all to me, 

Parchments and diamonds, and much glittering 
gold. 
My son and daughter gaze in mute surprise, 

" Dear father, this will meet your wants, no doubt;" 
The falling tears I wipe from off my eyes, 

And said, "'tis strange how God brings things 
about." 
My heart was touched — my losses were repaired, 

Prosperity and wealth on me attend, 
I found in trials still God for me cared, 

And bounteously did his favors send. 

{Enter Reporter.) 

Reporter. * 
" Good morning, sir ! I hope I see you well ; 
This scene is pleasant," 

Smith. 

" Thank you ! well as years, 
That always on the aged somehow tell 
Will well permit, though each age has its cares." 



13 
Reporter. 

il Yes ! and I think reporters have the most. 

They must be here and there ever, and tell 
The waiting public, careless of the cost, 

In brains and labor all the news, and well." 

Smith. 

? Tis even so ! mankind but little dream 

What labor is expended on the least 
Or less important, as to them may seem 

Each thing that, with its fellow, makes their feast* 
I honor all who labor for their kind, 

But honor more the intellectual sway 
So justly gained by those who tax the mind 

By writing books, or for the press each day, 
So ardent strive their race still to improve,. 

Instruct, inform, correct, amuse, delight,, 
And in the work and labor of true love, 

Spend not the day alone, but oft the night. 

Reporter. 

I wish that all, dear sir, were s^ich as you ; 

But as it is we must remain content, 
The most love trifles, and in reading, few 

Are studious enough how time is spent. 
2 



Smith. 

And yet each year some great improvement gives, 

And the all-potent press is teeming forth 
Such works as stand the test, and each receives 

Almost as much attention as 'tis worth ; 
The rest, neglected, pining, die away, 

And deep oblivion sweeps them from our view ; 
Each has its course, and sees its little day, 

And each, if I mistake not, has its cine. 
And yet, 'twill often happen that a puff, 

Or editorial criticism, will send 
A book up like a kite, that has enough 

Of favoring air, but then will downward tend. 
The greatest authors mostly have been poor, 

And in their day, some scarce a loaf could buy ; 
Our age, in this, I think has worked a cure, 

And few will write now that could easier fly. 
An author, as a critic, must have bread, 

And authorship is a poor trade, no doubt, 
But if a man has good brains in his head, 

The public, some day sure, will find him out. 
And then, however poor, obscure his name, 

He'll take his place unmoved by any phrenzy 
That might his efforts mar, his rising fame 

Blighted by that just critic called Mackenzie. 

(Exit Reporter.) 



15 

Juliette. 
Dear father, in this pleasant morning air, 

The sun delightful shining on ray way, 
I've wandered all about and everywhere, 

But not till now have I seen you to-day. 
Your feebler age requires a daughter's love, 

And dutiful attentions on it waiting, 
You strayed too far, and 'twill your powers prove 

O'ertasked too much, as homeward we're retreating. 

Smith. 

Beloved child, my thoughts still led me on, 

'Tis long since I reclined beneath this tree, 
This spot was as the favored place well known 

By me and her I lost, mother to thee. 
One spot alone will ever claim a part, 

Whate'er we do, wherever we may rove, 
And press its imprint in the beating heart ; 

The spot of vows exchanged and pledged love. 

Juliette. 
Beloved father, let us homeward tend, 

We can converse and onward as we go ; 
You'll tell more of her whose life did end 

The self-same time that mine begun below. 

Smith. 
Not now, my child, perhaps another hour,' 

When we're in twilight, and deep shadows steal, 



16 

With softening influence and all the power 

Of gentle sympathy, I'll like it feel. 
Then you shall hear, with more you ought to kno^, 

My loss and yours how great, without repair, 
When us she left in this sad- scene of woe 

Her loss to mourn. Xow she knows no care. 
My son is coming to us through the vale, 

His step is slow; and all his looks are sad ; 
He sees us not, but mark his features pale, 

Xow he looks up, and seems to meet us glad. 
How now, my son ! you got your education 

In the best college known in all the land, 
You wore your sword well, too, and for the nation, 

Did bravely bear yourself, and have on hand 
The documents of which you might be proud; 

A patriot will prize of noble soul, 
For freedom struggling 'mid the battle loud, 

Whose courage gives him then entire control. 
You're young and handsome, and a likely fellow ; 

You are not poor, and richer than you know, 
And still you're sad, and you are somewhat yellow, 

Absent in mind — I late have seen you so. 

Edward. 

None should conceal a secret from kind father; 

I am not ill, and yet not very well, 
I'll not conceal, although I had much rather, 

So I will all my grievous sufferings tell. 



n 

Juliette. 

I fear there is a damsel in the case, 

He kept his secret well, but I could discover 

From one dear girl, by changes in her face, 
That Edward was her ardent, favored lover. 

Edward. 

Although I'm sick I can't refrain a smile ; 

You're right, sweet sister, it is even so. 
How you found out, or if by woman's wile 

'Tis plain how matters are, right well you know. 
Her high, proud-minded, and her purse-proud father, 

Is all reluctant to regard my claim ; 
He'd mate her to aristocrat much rather, 

Than shepherd's son who bears an hnmble name. 

Smith. 

I know the maid, you're better born than she ; 

She's good and virtuous, her beauty rare, 
And if she loves you, you may happy be, 

Nor of the world's trash have the slightest care. 
Her father's fond of wealth, without objection 

He'll press you to his heart and give you Annie, 
When you present this bond to his inspection, 

Say it is mine and I must have my money. 
For fifty thousand dollars is the bond, 

Your father owns it, and you own it now, 
2* 



18 

And when he knows you of his daughter fond, 
Depend on me he'll not reject your vow. 

Annie (Alone.) 

How beautiful the face of nature seems, 

The sun just rising, pours his cheering ray 
Upon the city ; and the brilliant gleams 

Reflected on the chrystal windows play. 
But when on some dark pile of other years, 

Gloomy and black with many an age they fall, 
Their splendor is absorbed and nothing cheers, 

The gloom that on it rests like funeral pall. 
Thus with my heart, the sun shines out in vain, 

And useless all his brilliant rays descend, 
And prospects fine and e'en sweet music's strain 

Nothing contain, which my sad case can mend. 

Mary, an Irish girl, enters. 

What ails my lovely mistress ? once so gay, 

Your cheerfulness has left you, and your sleep 
Is often broken while you muttering say 

Things that my faithful bosom still must keep. 
I've served you well two years, and oh, so kind 

You're ever proved to a poor orphan maid, 
I'd range the world some remedy to find 

That might restore you, or that e'en might aid. 



19 

Annie. 

You served me well, good girl ;, I often think 

Your first condition differed far from this, 
In mind and person and some things that link 

A chain together prove you lost some bliss. 
You, like myself, some painful secret have, 

All unrevealed which in dark shadows throws 
A gloom o'er your fair face, as if the grave 

Were the last rest, the place of true repose; 
Then listen now to what I'll freely tell, 

And then you'll know my secret grief too well. 
While in botanic studies one day straying, 

I sought and found a very pretty flower, 
'Twas afternoon and in the fields delaying, 

I sought a shelter from the falling shower. 
A youth appeared with every manly grace, 

And as I knew him, for we met before, 
He said the rain and dampness of the place 

Required he should escort me to my door. 
His sheltering umbrella kept me dry, 

And on we walked, supported by his arm, 
I felt a little tremulous, I don't know why, 

For sure I felt to walk so was no harm. 
For well I knew that wet will bring on cold. 

And cold is apt to lead to inflammation. 
And this to death in either young or old, 

However high or low their rank or station. 



20 

Then too we parted at the very door, 

He, leaving, gave a little flower the thought, 
Though brief our walk, yet now that it was o'er, 

He mutely wished me to forget him not. 
And thus in simplest way at first we met 

And accident has caused us oft to meet, 
I can't tell how it is, or if our fate, 

But soon experience taught to me 'twas sweet. 
His sister is my very clearest friend, 

A bosom friend as every girl must have, 
An angel if from heaven they e'er descend, 

To visit mortals while this side the grave. 
But here she comes, and radiant are her smiles, 

She looks quite cheerful and so full of mirth. 
That e'en my sadness she so oft beguiles 

My gloomy thoughts, I must in joy break forth. 

Juliette. 

How does my dearest Annie fare to-day ? 
I hope in health and with all blessings too. 

Annie. 

I thank you, sweetest friend, and I must say, 
My thoughts just now were occupied with you. 

Juliette. 

You're very kind, and I am very glad ; 

What were you thinking of for some time past ? 



21 

I fain would know, for oft your looks are sad, 

The fit would pass I know, nor longer last. 
Yet on your mind I fear some secret preys, 

All unrevealed your sadness saddens me, 
If you are sad my happiness decays, 

Nor can I brook unhappiness in thee. 
For friendship binds with sympathetic chords 

The hearts that true in joy and sorrow are, 
And friendship that consists in merely words 

Is of all confidence the greatest bar. 
A sorrow told alleviates the pain 

That oft confined consumes the burning heart, 
And health and happiness are the sure gain 

From friendship's true and sympathetic art. 

Annie. 

You're right, my dear, and reason very well, 

A sage but fair philosopher art thou; 
My secret is deep, but I may tell 

My truest friend ; and since I must avow, 
There's one who stole my heart away, and love 

Reigns with all potent sway within my breast, 
Whether I walk or rest, retire or rove 

By day and night, my thoughts are all distressed. 
For he their object while he others sees 

That are more fair, more worthy choice will make, 
Then deeper sorrow will upon me seize, 

And though I dare not speak, my heart will break. 






22 

Juliette. 

Take courage, sweet, for how can you discover, 
When none are fairer he could fairer choose 1 

Perhaps, and likely he an ardent lover, 

Is trembling now to think you might refuse. 

Annie. 

Should he regard me with your partial eyes 
A reasonable hope I then might have, 

But 'tis not to be hoped for, and surprise 

Will seize yourself, and but regret 'twill leave. 

Juliette. 

Fear not, but speak, who is the happy man ? 
I fondly wish he were my only brother. 

Annie. 
Oh ! Juliette, you knew how matters ran, 
Good gracious ! it is he, your Edward, and. none 
other. 

Juliette. 

Your blushes spare, my dear, your worth he knows, 
And quickly will, fear not, himself disclose ; 

A noble heart he has, but full of woes, 

Which quick will vanish when he does propose. 

Here comes himself, and now I'll steal away, 
I'm one too many here, and so good bye ! 



23 

Annie. 
Oh stay, for pity's sake, and let me say — 
Why she is gone ; to do my best I'll try. 

Edward. 
I come, most lovely maid, a boon to crave, 
And ask your leave to talk with you awhile. 

Annie. 
And if your boon I grant what you would have 
Of benefit might cause the grave to smile. 

Edward. 
That may depend on how each subject turns, 

For you are wise and prudent, and the time 
With such conversing flies, till the clock warns 

The astonished visitor, grieved at its chime. 
Your mind well stored with knowledge, in converse 

Can pour instruction on the willing ear, 
Your motives high, whate'er you may rehearse. 

Oh, who so dull that would not gladly hear ? 
Your voice is music, and your form so. fair, 

Your face so beautiful that you appear 
A radiant being, who from upper air, 

The blest abode of angels, came clown here. 

Annie. 
If you talk thus I fear that I must change 
The estimate I formed of your good sense ; 



24 

Such flattery to me is new and strange, 
And I must say 'tis all at truth's expense. 

.Edward. 
Well, then, you are no angel, but a being 

Formed from the clay, and mortal as the rest ; 
You are not perfect with Him the All-seeing, 

But one who must improve to join the blest. 

Annie. 
You're talking now with better sense, I'm sure, 

And to the propositions I assent; 
This is more to my mind, and may secure 

Our full agreement and without dissent. 

Edward. 
I won't admit my propositions wrong, 

Whatever was advanced in the beginning, 
And now the proofs to my mind are more strong, 

That modesty and virtue are more winning. 
Your graces might attract my admiration, 

Your beauty cause more wonder than man's art, 
But, virtue — goodness in my contemplation 

Could only gain the victory o'er my heart. 
Oh, fairest creature then, I'm wretched ever, 

And must prolong my misery through life, 
Unless to me you're joined in bonds that nought can 



sever 



And I am blest by having thee for wife. 



25 

Annie. 

My happiness will only thus be surest, 
Your iove reciprocated I will own, 

To you affection turns in trust securest, 
You my beloved, my Edward, you alone. 



AN OFFICE IN THE CITY. 
Mr. Thomas. (Alone). 

My business flourishes, ail goes on to my mind, 

I'm making money, and will make much more, 
I've passed the days of struggle, and I find 

My credit better than for years before. 
The wealth I've hoarded is not for myself, 

Though many think that I am fond of money, 
And have my heart all set on paltry pelf, 

It is not so; though bees are fond of honej^. 
And labor ceaseless all the summer da} r s 

To hoard it secret in their waxen cell, 
Or art industrious which as Horace says 

Adds to its heap each day to serve for winter well. 
These insects by mere instinct taught to move, 

The animals that o'er the plain or pasture go, 
The fowls of heaven, the finny tribes that move 

Through sea or stream cannot by reason go. 
3 



26 

But man more noble, so erect in stature, 

To whom the Deity gave face sublime, 
And made him somewhat lower in his nature 

Than angels are, is not confined to time. 
For time is short, but not so is man's being ; 

He's here but a brief space, not so always, 
And favored in the sight of the All-Seeing, 

His life is measured by eternal days. 
And e'en the dust to which he turns when dying 

Shall in the resurrection bear the trace 
Of finer chisel than Aelles plying 

His skilful art in marble e'er could grace. 
For forms all glorified in dazzling beauty 

Inspired and tenanted by souls made pure 
Of those who in probation did their duty, 

Shall see all nature changed and yet endure. 
What man exists then who will force his reasons, 

And grovel in the world's vain things awhile, 
Forgetful of the future when in season, 

For him is naught a vain world's frown or smile ? 
To eat, drink, and be clothed, is all the cry 

Of worldly men, provided they gain wealth; 
They think no more why they're sent here, nor why 

They may live longer or have failing health. 
My place is not here ever, nor my toiling, 

Both day and night, is not for wife and me, 
From hoarding as an object, I'm recoiling, 

And Annie is the object that I see. 



21 

I want her fortune certain and quite ample 

For all the uses she may e'er desire, 
Further than this, her wants like mine are simple, 

And riches she won't covet or admire. 

(Enter Edward.) 

Edward. 

I find you busy, sir, and won't intrude 

But a short time, and make my words as brief 

As may be, to make duly understood 

What most important is to you and me in chief. 

Thomas. 
I'm glad to see you, Edward, I have leisure, 

Sit down and tell me all you have to say, 
I, in your conversation took much pleasure; 

Until you chanced, observing on one day 
That you had ta'en a fancy to my girl, 

And deemed you loved her, oh ! far more than all, 
Confess it, boy, you thought me but a churl, 

Because I took a prudent view withal. 

Edward. 
I must confess I thought you proud in station 

And fond of wealth, and looked on the possession 
Of such, wit'h all its ostentation, 
Just what you wished, though not so your ex- 
pression. 



28 

Thomas. 
Ha ! ha! you're partly right, but wrong, my boy, 

When you concluded I'd my daughter give 
To wealthy son-in-law, and wish him joy; 

The man that weds my Annie must be well to live. 
This is but just, her fortune is not large, 

And I her father work to make it more ; 
This my anxiety, my daily charge, 

For this I'm early and late too in store. 
I like you much, and would most gladly see 

My daughter yours, but for this very cause, 
That when united, you could never be 

In the position to gain just applause. 
In other words, men judge us by our means 

In many a way wealth can a great deal do, 
And toward the wealthy our desire leans 

When suitors come, for daughter's hands to sue. 

Edward. 
Father told me this document to show, 

And say, he owns the ground 3^011 sit upon, 
The property is his, though } r ou don't know, 

But he receives the rent, and he alone. 

Thomas. 
The thing is clear, another holds in trust, 
And to him pays whatever may accrue ; 



29 

The bond thus too he holds and pay I must, 

Now, I upon it think tis nearly due. 
Tell him 'twill all be right, and let me say 

I'm glad he's fortunate beyond my thought ; 
Now, Edward tell me what to-day 

Yourself to talk on hither to me brought ? 

Edward. 

I own your daughter's love, I ask her hand 
In holy wedlock, till death do us part ; 

I love her as my life, and can command 
The means you toil for — 

Thomas. 

Well ! with all my heart ! 
I am most happy my consent to grant, 

To her's you have obtained with due assent, 
And may ye prosper, and no good thing want 

While both shall live till life's last hour is spent ! 



PART II. 



Evangelist. 

These scenes are pleasant, but the scorching ray- 
Is on the fields, and flocks this hour descending; 
To yonder house, and not far i/ff my way, 

To 'scape the noontide heat, my steps are bending. 
Here roamed the Indian many years ago. 

In all his pride of bows and queer attire — 
His tomahawk or rifle ; here the foe 

Burned down his cottage by consuming fire. 
His wife and children, and his neighbors here, 

No doubt enjoyed tiie life of savage wildness; 
They watched the foe in eagerness of fear — 

The Christian foe in terror for their mildness. 
The war-whoop sounded, and the warriors danced, * 

Fantastic, in the pride. of paint and plumes, 
The glittering ornaments upon them glanced, 

Though then their costume was not of the looms. 
This very scene beheld the Imppy bride, 

The bridegroom's joy, the rude festivity 
Of barbarous times ; and on this streamlet's tide 

Rowed the canoe in emulation's glee. 
(30) 



Nor did the " noble savage " need to grieve, 

That Feim — good man — e'er sought these syl van 
shades ; 
His justice not e'en savage would deceive — 

Not his th' insidious foe's dark ambuscades. 
What s^ee we now ! — some flocks and herds are grazing, 

Or seek the shade ; some shepherds and their lasses, 
All pleasant, pass the time, or curious gazing 

On any new or strange face that there passes. 
The pastures are not large, the flock is small ; 

Nor this the scene Arcadian or of Tempe, 
I wonder how the shepherd lives at all; 

I fear his pockets often are but empty, 
I^that were so, and he no income had, 

More independent I'd be in the lurch; 
For in such case no doubt my chance were bad 

To get a fat subscription for my Church. 
God made the universe, and all the earth 

With all its wealth is His, and His alone; 
Each thought that's good from Him derives its birth, 

'Tis His to change to flesh the heart of stone. 
And stony hearts there are that ne'er would feel, 

Or know the source from whence their good pro- 
ceeds, 
Were there no temples raised by godly zeal, 

Where man may hear the warning that he needs. 
I'm at the house, — this venerable man 

May be its master, and I'll him accost — 



32 

Pray, sir, inform me, if, indeed, you can, 

If Mr. Smith lives here, or I my way have lost ? 

Smith. 

I am that person — what may you require ? 

You seem a clergyman — I love the cloth. 
Walk in and tell me all that you desire. 

If I can serve you I will not be loth. 

Evangelist. 

You are most kind ; and I require your aid, 

For we a Church are raising, and though God 
Dwells not in temples that with hands, are made, 

Yet does he condescend to teach the road 
To heaven leading, when the people bow 

In holy reverence at the Gospel sound, 
And on them take the deep and solemn vow, 

Of leaving sin while mercy may be found. 

Smith. 

Your object is a good one ; the devotion, 

Engendered by the congregation kneeling 
Before Jehovah with that deep emotion, 

That rises in the heart the source of feeling ; 
Is helpful to the Christian's daily life, 

And aids his struggles for the victory 
That he must gain in all the perilous strife 

He meets with, if he would life eternal see. 



33 

Mankind are brothers, bound by common ties, 

And mutually dependent on each other ; 
As far as in the power of each it lies 

He's bound to help his neighbor as his brother. 
And if the different bodies who profess 

To love their Master, but ignore each other, 
How can they hope that He will deign to bless 

And prosper them when they don't love their 
brother ? 
To aid you in the cause you have in hand 

Here's fifty dollars, with my prayers I give, 
And if you seem in need of more to stand 

The like at dedication you'll receive. 

(Enter Edward.) 

Edward. 

7 Tis my old friend I see, nc^ friend at school, 

My friend no less, when we were both at College, 

Old times come back again — the heavens do rule 
That gave you back to me I do acknowledge. 

Evangelist. 
Our joy is mutual ; for many a day 

Have you and I climbed the steep bill of learning, 
Or quaffed the stream of knowledge till our way 

Dividing, each went his, his own need earning. 

Edward. 
You must, remain to-day, and at our leisure 
We shall a^ain renew our recollection 



34 

Of things and persons with the chastened pleasure 
That has its source in memory and reflection. 

Father, you heard me often name my friend 
The wise and good ; I know you're glad to see 

I've found him once again, and in the end 
As at the first he'll useful be to me. 

Smith. 

I welcome you, kind sir, ancj while you stay 
I will most gladly bear you company, 

Edward will entertain you, while I may 
Repose as is my wont, in elumbers free. 

{Exit.) 

Edward. 

Now my old friend improve the time and tell 

The chances, changes, scenes, through which you 
passed, 

How they affected you and whether well, 
You anchor in a port secure at last. 

Evangelist. 

That will be only when this scene is o'er 
And mortal cares cannot affect the mind, 

When safely housed on the eternal shore 
My spirit its repose and bliss shall find. 

When we had parted I took up a book 

Pondering, turned o'er its leaves and on me fell 



35 

A power divine that all my being shook 

And scales dropped from my eyes but how I 
cannot tell, 
Then all I ever read about the East, 

And eastern lands in memory found a place, 
The Lesser Asia seemed a land to feast 

My mind upon ; and that the cradle of our race. 
For Abraham's calling and Paul's labors came 

Mysteriously blended in my thought, 
The first from Chaldea, the last in name, 

From Tarsus in Cilicia was brought. 
I mused upon the peoples that had dwelt 

'Neath the Assyrian and Persian sway, 
That to vain idols or the sun had knelt 

And paid their homage to the god of day. 
The dark Egyptian and his rites impure 

The mysteries of Greece in arts refined, 
Rome with her idols which could not endure 

When first the Christian creed assailed the mind 
Then high resolve within my heart arose 

For truth to stand, the Cross as banner raise 
'Gainst sin, and pride, and all the deadly foes 

That in our age pervert the Lord's right ways. 
And thus your friend now swells the sacred ranks 

Of those that for the truth not vainly strive, 
Like swollen stream that overflows its banks, 

Or Nile whose fertile wave grants man to live. 



36 

Called to the city where a faithful few, 

A simple temple to Jehovah raise 
My steps were hither led, and with the view 

Some aid to ask by your kind father's grace. 

Edward. 
And did he grant your very just request ? 

For I must say he often gives away 
More than most dream of; says he thinks it best 

Unlike to some who wait till dying day. 

Evangelist. 
He liberally gave and promised more, 

By gentle courtesy my heart did cheer; 
Heaven bless his age, and leaving mortal shore 

May he in joy ascend to blissful sphere ! 

Edward. 

There is a pleasant task you must for me 
Some day perform — no other shall, I know, 

As I will not request it ; then you'll see 
What 'tis to have a friend in weal and woe. 

Evangelist. 

I spell you out, you ask me to make one 
Of what was two ; which is a pleasing task, 

- . d easy too, and well you know that none 
Would be so glad to do whatever you ask. 



37 

Edward. 
You guessed right well ; I greatly loathe the life 

Of bachelor, which I till now have led ; 
And marry soon I will to the best wife 

E'er man was blest with ; but you'll see the maid. 

{Enter Juliette.) 
Thisas my sister, and with me she'll joy 

To find you with me, as she often heard 
My praises of you; this too from a boy 

Till we grew men ; now she'll have her word : 

Juliette. 
And that will be your welcome; and I hope 

Some time your stay, for in this rural scene 
Are many grand attractions and full scope 

For liveliest fancy 'midst its fields of green. 

Evangelist. 
You are poetical, and I delight to see 

The sister of my friend like him possess 
A mind that soars in fancy buoyantly, 

And can with life people a wilderness. 
I've strayed by Schuylkill's banks in summer day,. 

And wandered where the Wissahickon glides 
Xow dark amid deep hills where solar ray 

Cannot illume; and where it rolls its tides 
Of murmuring waters o'er its pebbly bed, 

And marked hill and dale that all around 
4 



38 

Extended lay, till here and there it led 

To scenes the patriot still thinks sacred ground. 
Nor with a careless eye did I survey 

The wealthy villas where the rich erjoy 
The blessings of retirement far away 

From crowded tumult which will much annoy- 
These flocks and herds, and smiling fields I love, 

Where Xature leads my mind to Nature's God, 
And draws my thoughts contemplative above, 

In faith to Him who taught the Heavenly road. 
1 think of Him when by the Jordan's stream 

He sojourned, or by sacred Cedron's rill 
And taught the truth sublime ; and then I deem 
,Ali human wisdom nought, the w r orld's wise men 
instill. 
In solitude I sometimes love to muse 

When rambling through the dark and lonely shade 
Strewn with the flowers whose odors there diffuse 

Their grateful fragrance through the lovely glade. 
Hut often in sweet converse I prefer 

The charming company of faithful friend, 
Which cheers my spirits, dissipates my care, 

And gives enjoyment to each hour I spend. 
Delighted then would be to sojourn here, 

And with you pass the pleasant hours away, 
Amid the sylvan scenes which round appear 

In mingled beauty grand, and wild, and gay. 



Not long for me can solitude or ease 

My mind from duties active hence detain, 

My Master in my labors I must please, 

And flee where pleasure binds her flowery chain 

Edward. 

We won't require } r ou long with us to bide, 

Nor aught retard the work you have in hand; 
We join to aid you, and whate'er betide, 

Our help and influence you ma} 7 command. 
The temple which you now design to raise, 

Most glad we all will help you to prepare, 
■We owe our Maker all we have, and praise 

His name each day with earnest, fervent prayer. 
Thus of our substance we will freely spend, 

And labor with you in a glorious cause, 
Which aids mankind far more to better end, 

Than the restraints of usages and laws. 
For churches filled will leave no place for crime. 

And laws divine preserved, aid human rule; 
'Tis on this principle in this our time, 

Christians lay stress upon the Sunday school. 
My sister and her friend the maid I love, 

The Bible teaches young and listening ears, 
Which points to more enduring scenes above, 

And hejps the prospect of advancing years. 
Nor far remote the time when we shall leave, 

Or mostly so, this scene so wild and fair, 



40 

And dwelling in the city there receive 

Companionship we covet much to share. 
For there refinement and the arts of peace 

High cultivation, and rich social pleasure 
OF minds more sage than those of classic Greece, 

Pour forth profuse, their rare and priceless trea- 
sure. 
All social 303's refined one there may taste, 

Whose mind and heart the right direction take, 
And find this world is not the dreary waste, 

Some falsely deem it when the mind's awake. 

{Re-enter Smith.) 

The changes that have taken place within my time 

The civilizing influences and the advance 
Jn science, art and culture mark our clime 

In progress rapid in what can enhance 
The good of man ; nor can one easy draw, 

From the world's annals aught that may eom^ 
Within the limits known as nature's law 

With the vast onward march in which we sbs 



Evangelist. 

This is a wondrous age in which we live, 
And -onward' seems the century's motto fa| 

The student of some years since must receive 
Another studious course hi^ proper role to bear. 



41 

Edward. 

Though Euclid still geometry can teach 

And 5'ears ago anatomy was known, 
Theology the same for those who preach 

And some things else we know as in time gone, 
But industry now tunas the rapid wheel 

By motive power whose source discovery taught 
But recently ; the iron bar or steel 

Is by controlling power most wonderfully wrought. 

Evangelist. 

[ndustrial products, as manufacture known 

Denoted what was called as made by hand, 
Tie idea now has well nigh changed or flown, 

Supplanted by a triumph for more grand. 
Steam that impels the sea-traversing bark 
■The traveller speeds on continent or isle 
I&motive power to loom ; the press its mark 

Leaves on the age all steam-impelled the while ; 
Wonders on wonders rise and never cease, 

Eclipsing Persia, Egypt, Rome or Greece. 
That show past culture far is left behind, 
And mark the boundless progress of the mind. 
Twas on a summer's day when torrents fell, 

With sudden rain descending from the skies, 
I thought to seek a shelter ; it chanced well, 

To £11 my mind with wondering surprise, 
4* 



42 

The Iron Works I entered called Bush Hill, 

And not the largest in the industrial hive, 
."Which citizens may daily view and still 

In various shops see how mechanics thrive. 
I wandering round with close observant eye, 

Beheld the labors of four hundred men, 
All busily engaged ; and standing by, 

Was lost in thought and wondered still again. 
As each 'mid sparks and din and smoke did ply. 

Some on the anvil, heated iron urge, 
With pondrous hammers fashion to their minds 

The pliant metal; and like Vulcan's forge 
The bellows blow, sparks fly, 'mid smoke that blinds. 

Another place, each wonderful machine 
That turns, or planes, or plays a thousand parts, 

Xow here and there with skill applied is seen, 
By the controlling genius, who Master is of Arts. 

Wide is he known as skillful engineer, 
Machinist, founder, and the maker too 

Of boilers huge, that no explosion fear, 
While castings of all kinds evince what he can do. 

The mill machinery our country needs, 
For sugar, grist, impelling Bisston's Saw, 

Are all with art and skill which none exceeds 
In this one place contrived ; attention draw 

To Philadelphia workmen, and procure 

Both name, and fame, and riches, all to Moure. 



43 

Our Age too boasts the Iron Fronts of Royer 
Which time can scarce corrode — the great destro} T er; 
The stateliest, noblest, grandest of them all, 
(Iraces thy spacious palace, fair Oak Hall ! 

Edward. 

Machines are found to answer every use, 
That may avail with labor to dispense, 

They plough and reap, no drugery refuse, 
They churn, knit, sew, and at far less expense. 

Smith. 

When nrv age tender was the State was new, 

Its independence recently was won, 
Foundations laid in Libert}^ and due 

Respect to law auspiciously begun. 
With freedom, and observance of due right, 

Religion shed her gentle moral ray; 
Men yielded not alone to power and might 

But conscience too did oft point out the way. 
The Bible blessed the land, by sacred Truth, 

The Church was spread ; the Word of Life w T as read 
And learned institutions rose for youth, 

Or human woes to lighten quickly spread. 
From the Old World with each revolving year, 

Far from their native land adventurers came, 
Their path in life to carve and settle where 

The soil might theirs become in deed, as name. 



44 

Then hand-in-hand went industry and wealth, 

Development and progress in their train, 
The land was blessed, prosperity and health 

Swelled large, the increase still increased again. 
.The latent force electric wrought a change ; 

Free thought diffused so rapidly around 
That nought we wonder at event so strange, 

A circling band uniting earth was found. 
Ne'er did Arabian tale such wonders show, 

Or fiction e'er depict such strange surprise, 
As meets us here and there wherever we go, 

Shown by an age of wonders to our eyes. 

Evangelist. 
Our mines are rich, and have to wealth led some, 

Who on Pacific shores sought and have found 
What others toil for not less hard at home — 

In commerce, or the tillage of the ground. 

The precious metals here and there abound, 
The useful minerals — iron, lead, and coal — 

Throughout our country commonly are found ; 
And oil wells spring, surprising as a whole, 

How subterraneous wealth lies all around. 

Juliette. 
The dinner, gentlemen, is waiting now, 

And likely may improve your conversation, 
More like to languish for long fasting, how 

Can facts meet fair discussion with no relaxation ? 



45 

Edward. 
Our friend at least must some refreshment need, 

As exercise an appetite improves ; 
And so let us to dining-room proceed, 

Supporting nature as it all behooves. 

Evangelist. 
A wise man said the dinner hour by far 

Was most important in the twenty-four ; 
But morally I think that he did err, 

For hour devotional weighs in importance more. 

Edward. 
'Tis not when we are hungry we need cavil ; 

Each has its time and necessary use, 
And I'm afraid the evil spirit or devil 

Has caused to both at times a sad abuse. 
Our nation, in the eating of each meal, 

Ts too oblivious of strength and health, 
In which forgetful of the public weal, 

They eat so fast, as if it were by stealth. 

{Mr. Thomas' House.) 



Annie. 
am most happy — who could tell how much 
The heart will joy when of its load 'tis freed. 
\nd shrinks no more from apprehension's touch 
But calm, surveys and glories in its meed. 



46 

One word from Edward all this change has made- 
He loves me — I love him, — oh ! happy day 

When he called me his own, his dearest maid, 
No wonder my sad spirit now is gay. 

Come, Mary ! for you see me happy now — 

Whom late you wept for, while you saw me sad ; 

'Tis the effect of Edward's words and vow, 
You see me happy, his, and oh ! so glad. 

Mary. 

Oh ! glad and joyful may you ever be, 

For such you should who are so good and kind. 

It cheers me much your happiness to see, 

And know that what you wished so, now you find. 

Annie. 

Xow, Mary, pray your own account relate, 

And let me know if I can aid at all ; 
You seem a victim of untoward fate ; 

But Providence, not fate, rules great and small. 

Mary. 

I lost my parents w T hen but yet a child. 

A maiden aunt then took me to her home ; 
Her fortune large, her treatment very mild, 

She taught me well, and did not let me roam. 
On her dependent at the garden gate, 

A youth one day my careless steps espied, 






47 

And often there to meet it seemed our fate, 

Nor could his worth by any be denied ; 
Then he was rich, and wanted me to wed, 

To which I must admit my heart inclined, 
My aunt another chose for me instead ; 

But, such a match was little to my mind. 
And so I left the house, and country, too. 

And wandered o'er the ever rolling sea ; 
My chance presented my first steps to you, 

And with you service took, concealed and free. 
My lover waited two long years, and he 

Has now at length obtained my aunt's consent, 
And in this change to our sad destiny 

He found, and writes me, she does now relent. 
And so with joy, which makes my beating heart 

Like yours exult, for Erin's isle I leave ; 
But not from you without a pang I part, 

And one so good I must in parting grieve. 

Annie. 

And Mary, you deserve a happy lot 

In which I trust you will a place retain 

Within your memory, where to be forgot 
By you, I hope can't be, while life remain. 

Mary. 

Oh ! thank you much, when ceasing to recall 
Yourself, and all the kindness I enjoyed 



48 

At your most gentle hand, no thought at all 

For me remains but memory destroyed ; 
And should our lovely island ever see 

Your fair and happy face, how glad will I 
And he I love, with hospitality 

Bid you most gladly hail, for da} T s gone b} T . 

{Exit Mary:) 
Enter Mr. Thomas.) 

Thomas. 
I'm glad, my dear, that you are quite alone, 

I see y on happy, and can guess the cause ; 
Your mother knows of course, for there is none 

So much deserves your confidence by duty's laws. 

Annie. 
She knows, dear father ; and fortunate am I, 

So blessed in parents which a daughter's love 
Compel : I hope I still did try* 

To do my duty and what you approve. 

Thomas. 
We are content ; and soon you'll be a bride 

And leave for other scenes the happy home 
\\\ which you lived ; and whate'er may betide, 

'Tis ours to hope your happiness to come. 
And though this earth is not the Christian's home, 

Nor must we here expect without alloy 
Delight to find ; yet in the time to come, 

By serving God you'll find true source of joy. 



49 

Ambition, wealth, and fame, and all that earth, 

E'en blest with truest friendship can afford, 
Are both too transient and of too mean worth, 

Compared with the true service of the Lord. 
Oh, then ! my daughter seek religion's ways, 

On Him whose power and love so great, depend — 
AY ho listens to the feeblest child that prays, 

And will in every danger still defend. Exit. 

(Enter Edward.) 

Edward. 
Loveliest and best of women ! while with thee, 

My bliss in seeming is almost complete, 
The winged moments all too swiftly flee, 

And time expired we part — again to meet ; 
Yet parting you, seems leaving all my heart, 

Which still and ever is, indeed, your own ; 
I longing wait the time no more apart 

In holiest bonds united, we are one. 
Then name the time, sweet maid ! and say next week, 

It is an age, but time rolls still away; 
Xay, sweet ! look up and let me hear thee speak, 

And Thursday next be named the happy day. 

Annie. 
This is too sudden — let me think awhile, 

At least 'tis sooner than I may have thought, 
You call a week an age, at which I smile, 
But dimpling as it came a tear it brought. 
5 



50 

To laugh and weep at once is quite absurd, 
It foolish is to mingle joy and sorrow, 

To end such weakness, now, you have my word, 
With you to wed in just one week to-morrow. 

Edward. 

Thanks ! best and clearest ! now one fond embrace, 
And I must tear myself once more awa} 7 , 

Some business calls me to another place, 

Though not half through with what I have to say. 

Exit. 

{ Vnter Juliette.) 

Juliette. 

My darling sister, now I give thee joy, 

Your tell-tale blushes show me who was here. 
Our Edward is the clear and happy boy 

Who gained your heart ; now all is well, I hear 
A kind good brother, you will surely find 

A true and faithful loving husband make, 
This union most congenial to my mind, 

Concern for your best weal away does take. 

Annie. 

Tis I dear sister, who may well rejoice, 

Unworthy as I am his heart to gain, 
Who am his only love and dearest choice, 

Which any maid might envy, but in vain. 



51 



Yet I can say his happiness is mine, 
For him to ever love, my earthly bliss, 

My heart devoted in its inmost shrine, 
Belongs to him its idol, only his. 



A lawyer's office in the city. A lawyer seated at hi 
desk, examining a large number of papers. 

Lawyer. Alone. 

I'm worn away in all these weary years, 

My hair, once black, is long since turned to gray, 
In early life I had my anxious cares, 

And struggled hard to plod my weary way. 
When first my Blackstone studiously I learned, 

And days and nights gave to my legal lore, 
My head ofb ached, but study I discerned, 

Was that alone which gave a legal store. 
Each case in court I careful kept in view, 

Took notes, compared, and practically tried, 
In reasonings severe ; nought else would do, 

For oft I found precedents misapplied. 
I prospered well, and rose high at the bar, 

My brethren of the law in courteous sort, 
Though argumentative in wordy war, 

Were kind, humane, and gentle, out of court. 



52 

Among my early clients and a friend, 

Was one named Smith, a very worthy man, 
Whom the world hardly dealt with ; in the end 

Kind fortune smiled, prosperity began. 
My friend and client in the vale of years, 

My aid professional he calls on still, 
Xow near his end, at least, such are my fears, 

For he has summoned me to make his will. 
By Wissahickon he does choose to keep, 

And lives ostensibly by flock and fold, 
But bless me ! not his wealth in flocks of sheep 

Or herds, though 'mongst them he's grown old. 
His riches are in many a house and lot, 

In bonds which as a patriot he took, 
For he his country's weal has ne'er forgot, 

Investing all his surplus with Jay Cooke. 
But now I fear his wealth he'll shortly leave. 

His son and daughter to it heirs will fall ; 
For children gone, and wife, he oft did grieve. 

And now these last survivors will get all. 
His son two years since made a luck}' choice, 

In marriage with a maid discreet and fair, 
'Twas a love match which made all friends rejoice, 

I hear they have a lovety son and heir. 
Sweet Juliette, as daughter I have missed, 

To make the wife of my son Theodore, 
She'll wed most likely to Evangelist, 

A learned divine and restless evermore. 



, 53 

He raised a temple to his Maker's praise, 

Of ample size and architectural beauty, 
Fit to compare with fanes of other days, 

When the imposing seemed a part of duty. 
The swelling organ peals the solemn hymn, 

And vocal harmonies their notes combine, 
To swell the strain where light, religious, dim, 

Fours through stained windows in this model 
shrine. 
And listening crowds the temple ever throng, 

To hear the music, or the word to hear, 
While oft the influence of the sacred song 

And the enforced word, affect both heart and ear. 
Hence, a marked change on many has ta'en place, 

They sin forsook, and turned from wicked ways, 
Evincing in their lives the fruits of grace, 

And marked devotion to Jehovah's praise. 
The needy, sick, the destitute and poor, 

In good Evangelist have found a friend ; 
He visits much nor passes humble door, 

But labors ceaselessly their griefs to mend. 
(Smith's house.) 

Smith. 
Presentiments must some attention claim, 

And have an influence o'er the strongest mind, 
The weaker then we cannot greatly blame, 

When too much stress to lay on them inclined. 
5* 



54 

Juliette. 

It seemed, clear father, that just now you spoke, 
How are you now ? what may you still require? 

You slept till but some moments since you woke ; 
Say what to do your daughter you desire. 

Smith. 

I spoke, but to myself, my darling child, 

And slumbering woke but a few moments gone, 
Your sainted mother seeming on me smiled 

From heavenly sphere, and spoke, then left me lone. 
The radiant vision clothed in purest white, 

Beside my bed all lovely seemed to stand 
Like one of those who praising day and night, 

Before the Lamb present a joyful band. 
And words she spoke delightful to mine ear, 

Which T but think of, but cannot recall ; 
With beckoning hand she seems to disappear, 

What see I there ? her shadow on the wall ! 



Juliette. 

Your fancy, father, wanders with wide range 
'Midst airy visions, phantoms of the brain, 

That flit before imagination strange 
In its wild flights pursued and chased again. 

You had a dream in which conjecture ran 
Though fields aerial in rapid course, 



55 

Your thoughts all fancy led, dwelt on the one 

You loved so well, recalled to heavenly source. 
These thoughts, conjectures, creatures of the mind 

Prove immortality in souls to dwell, 
Which, subtile in their essence, nought can bind, 

But soar they will where joys eternal swell. 
As matter has its properties, so spirit, 

Though all unlike its attributes can claim, 
And does an entity as just inherit, 

As things material whatsoe'er their name. 
There is a soul, and it shall live forever > 

In joy or pain, in ecstasy and bliss, 
Or far from happiness be forced to sever 

For deeds in short probation done amiss. 
But spirits disembodied seldom turning 

From where they dwell by human eyes are seen, 
While lamp of mortal life is found yet burning, 

"Like angel's visits, few and far between." 
Nor if they come can they e'er cast a semblance 

Like shadow from a substance, on the walls, 
Though to our fancy it has such resemblance, 

While fleeting shadow on our fancy falls. 

Smith. 
Forebodings came upon me with much force 

That now in age extreme my time has come, 
That I have almost run my mortal course 

And soon shall take my flight to heavenly home, 



50 

The lawyer soon my testament and will 

In legal form will frame, and then at ease 
I resting for a space may after fill 

Some vacancy still left ; and close 1113^ eyes in peace. 

(Exit Juliette.] 
(Enter Laivyer.) 

Lawyer. 

I've come as you directed and made all 
The changes suiting to those interested. 

I'll read the will ; if then you wish I'll call 
Such witnesses as make it well attested. 

(Reads and has it signed.) 

Smith. 

You have succeeded and all is well done. 

We soon must part, for my career is o'er, 
Please ring the bell, and call to me my son ! 

Lawyer. 
He comes himself and now is at the door. 

(Enter Edward.) 

Edward. 

Dear father, how I see your strength is failing 
What can we do to render you some aid ? 



51 

Smith. 
Your wish, my son, and aid are unavailing, 

The icy hand of death cannot be staid. 
Our friend the lawyer now ray will has made, 

You'll see all right, he still has been my friend; 
And as life's progress cannot be dela}<ed 

Your sister and Evangelist haste to send. 
They love each other as we all do know ; 

I wish their marriage now before my eyes 
At once to see, ere I from things below 

Rise to my happj r home beyond the skies. 

(Enter Evangelist leading Juliette, the Minister and 
Edward.) 

You come, my children ; let me join }'Our hands, 
This aged friend will knit in holy bands 
By sacred rite of Church ; while each before me stands 
Receive my blessing : — May God aid who commands. 

My earthly work is o'er ; Edward, your wife and son 
My blessing share, and all, I humbly trust, 

With me will in the resurrection rise, 
When no more mortal is this earthly dust 

In glory raised with spirits to the skies. 
And now farewell ! — my fading sight is gone, 

I'm struggling now with Jordan's swelling wave, 
By great Messiah's aid who leaves me not alone ; 

'•Where now thy sting, oh Death! thy victory, oh 
grave !" 



Edward. 

Our dearest father now has breathed his last, 

In age extreme his mortal life is o'er ; 
All suffering and pain forever past, 
• He goes to those he loves on Canaan's shore. 

Juliette. 

Our loss is his great gain, the Christian's faith 
Was his through life and in the vale of years, 

The Christian's hope sustained his latest breath, 
By all that saints in hour of dying cheers. 

Lawyer. 

He was a man who all his life was just 
In all his dealings with his fellow-men, 

In Providence he had unshaken trust, 

And felt if things went wrong, in time they'd right 
again. 

Evangelist. 

For him we should not grieve ; as fruit mature 

Will downward fall to earth from parent tree, 
So he in good old age in faith most sure 

Was ripened well for immortalit}^. 
How few there are who in this little span 

Reach to the age of threescore year and ten, 
Which Holy Writ assigns to mortal man 

As bounds that can be passed but now and then. 



09 

Some die in infancy, youth, manhood, age, 

Uncertain all when sickness or disease, 
Accident, danger, woe, may from the stage, 

The busy actors drive, and death may seize. 
No JEsculapian art can aught avail, 

By aid of science to turn death aside, 
When the decree is issued all things fail, 

And the weak bark left struggling with the tide. 
And ahi how sad when in uncertainty 

The bark has drifted helpless out to sea 
Far from this mortal shore, th' infinity 

Of that unbounded ocean called eternity. 
How few in all the earth are taught to feel 

The uncertain tenure of this little hour, 
For them the worldly good, and woe or w r eal 

Are seen dependent on an All- Wise Power. 
But most 'tis cause of fear have not a thought 

Their life throughout in all its thorny road, 
That works such change as to repentance brought, 

And led the soul from Satan back to God. 
Hence lying, cheating, swearing, murder, crime, 

In every form the Scriptures do condemn, 
Abound in every land, in every clime, 

As if men thought that God should not rule them. 
And Justice, even here is not so slow, 

As to restrain her pace, withhold her hand, 
But often wounds and keenly, and with blow 

Severe but merciful brings to a stand. 



Men cheat themselves by merest want of care, 

They cast away as less than useless toys 
The blessings beyond price, nor wish to share, 

Aught but the trifles known as worldly joys. 
Eternity and death — they never think 
' How near to them until their unconcern 
Is all alarmed when standing on fate's brink, 

When dread will cause a lesson new to learn. 
? Tis oft too late, an opening grave they see, 

A hopeless gulf all frowning deep and dark, 
While with one plunge they reach eternity 

And find in all their aims they missed their mark. 

Edward. 

Hope with its gentle influence ever sheds 

A radiance mild upon our eart«hly way 
And will to better things the spirit lead 

If we the impulse needfully obey. 
The wretch oppressed with care and deepest woe, 

By hope sustained can yet endure one day, 
But if this blessing he must quite forego . 

His light is quenched ingloom without a ray. 

Evangelist. 

Faith, Hope, and Charity, these three abide, 
As in the Holy Book hath said St. Paul, 

They by the Christian move as side by side, 
Bat Charity, or Love, is greatest of them all. 



Faith leads the soul restored again to God, 

From darkest doubt and error's deepest maze, 
It sets him first upon the heavenly road, 

And leads him onward all his happy days. 
Then Hope, well grounded, points to brighter sphere, 

And joined with faith still fortifies the soul, 
But faith and hope the Christian has but here, 

They only on him wait until he reach the goal. 
The first in sight is lost, the last in joy, 

While Love fore verm ore shall still remain, 
For God is Love, and this iheine shall employ * 

The tongues redeemed that swell the J03 7 fill strain. 

Mrs. Smith. 

Oh ! how delightful heaven to us appears, 
Where all forever is but peace and bliss, 

The prospect brightens as the Christian nears 
His happ} r end, in such a world as this. 

Then all at once heaven buists upon his gaze, 

With all its jo} T s and everlasting praise. 

Evangelist. 

The things of earth are frail and pass away, 

Wealth, honor, pleasure, fame, whate'er we find, 

And even should they never know decay, 
They ne'er could satisfy immortal mind, 

The soul is made the infinite to reach 
.Ethereal, subtile, boundless in its aim, 
6 



62 

That still will live and still its power will stretch, 

Though all destroyed should perish Nature's frame, 
Not countless worlds could buy one human soul, 

Its price is infinite, — nor paid in vain 
Should lesser do, or part, and not the whole, 

The incarnate Son of God had ne'er been slain. 
Then Truth eternal shall the nations bless, 

True Virtue flourish till the world's overflowed, 
And Piety prevail till holiness, 

(Terspreads a world obedient to its God. 
Ungodly men shall perish from the earth, 

All crime and wickedness shall fade away 
Before that power celestial in its birth 

Diffusing still the glorious moral ray. 
The great Messiah shall in triumph stand 

Amid His saints in dazzling arra}', 
And all the saved in ours and every land, 

Shall with him reign in cloudless, endless day. 
Then let us now and ever prostrate fall 

Before His cross, in fervent faithful prayer, 
Imploring Him All-Wise to guide us all, 

That when He comes we may his glory share. 



PART THIRD. 



Scene in the city. Edward's House. 

Edward. 
How time rolls on, here I in married life, 

Have all the world can give me to enjoy. 
Of all my treasures, dearest is my wife, 

My darling wife and precious little boy. 
For she has ever been my greatest blessing, 

So fair in form, so lovely in her ways, 
That time has rolled its restless course unceasing, 

Yet excellencies now still speak her praise. 
Our life thus far has glided on so even, 

I'm too much blessed beyond my utmost merits. 
That I might dream a Paradise or heaven 

Were here on earth, and not a world of spirits. 
My little son with prattle and with glee 

Runs bounding toward his father, shouts for joy, 
Climbs up adventurous on parental knee, 

And cries he is papa's and mamma's little boy. 
Wealth and station too are mine in this city polite, 

Friends are many and esteemed, oh! how very much, 
They caress, visit, see me by day and oft by night, 

And happy the man who is known of s'uch. 



04 . 

Mrs. Smith. 

My clearest! tell me now what }'ou do think upon, 
When musing thus amid the deepening shades, 

For you are pondering, happy though alone, 
Then let me know before the light quite fades. 

Edward. 

Oh, best of women ! I will not conceal 

The thoughts that now did all my mind pervade, 

]>ut let you know the happiness I feel 

Long ere the light gives way to deepening shade ; 

Li one word then I felt that I was blessed, 

You know the cause and thus you know the rest. 

Mrs Smith. 

'Tis from our Heavenly Father's bounteous hand 

That all these lavish blessings ceaseless flow ; 
'Tis His to grant and His to give command 

That all should cease and mortals grieve below. 
For heaven upon earth we cannot find, 

Our purest pleasures still must have alloy, 
This earth can't fill the soul nor yet the mind. 

The infinite' we seek for sated joy. 
Then let our gratitude from faithful hearts 

At morn and even a sacrifice arise, 
And let us labor still to heal the smarts 

Of those who drew a blank instead of priz3 , 






65 

Thousands within the bounds of this great cit} r , 

Are weak or poor, or helpless, or are sick, 
Mankind neglect them, or for want of pity, 

Or sheer indifference ; thus their woes are thick. 
Mankind forget when (iod his favors showers, 

'Tis to dispense, alleviating pain, 
And God intends the utmost of our powers 

For good be spent that none may just complain. 

Enter Nursery- Maid. 

Nursery-Maid. 

Madam, excuse my haste, the child is ill, 

All sudden seized, and while engaged in play ; 

It seems like croup, but may not be, and still 
I thought to run at once, as he was well all day. 

Edward. 

Here, John, run call the doctor! let him come 
With hottest haste and drive the carriage round ; 

And if he chance to be away from home, 
Then let another quickly here be found. 

My love ! let's go and see the boy at once. 

And try that the complaint maj 7 not advance. 

{Enter Doctor.) 

Doctor. 
Where is the patient ? ah ! the case case is serious 
But hope the best, and we the best will do ; 



But to be frank, such ease is oft precarious, 

Though we all means must use, and quickly, too. 

I'll give this powder, which but seldom fails, 
Unless where too confirmed disease prevails. 

Edward. 

I like your frankness, doctor ; I had rather 

Know best and worse at once, without suspense. 

Mrs. Smith. 

A mother, though more timid than a father, 
Can bear as much, if so the Lord dispense. 

Doctor. 

I'm happy, madam, to assure } t ou now, 
That all the danger suddenly has passed ; 

The powder was effectual, and I vow 
I'm overjoy etl to find him safe at last; 

For we must own our art sometimes too poor, 
In cases sudden due relief to secure. 

Edavard. 

We're grateful, doctor, for your prompt attention, 
As you must go, we wont detain you now ; 

We'll try to aid your views, and often mention 
Your great success ; take litis any how. 

Exit Doctor.) 



67 

My dear, in this I learn a lesson new, 

One that has taught me more than all has done, 

How God in making the great Covenant new, 
Did not withhold, but freely gave His Son. 

{Enter Evangelist.) 

Evangelist. 

1 n coming here I heard the child was ill, 

But now I find the self-same child is well, 
The doctor carried out high Heaven's will, 

And gratitude does all our bosoms swell. 
M} 7 wife will soon be here ; we made a call 

To see a poor, sick dying saint to-night, 
Who never more may see us on this ball, 

Another sphere she'll see ere morning light. 

{Enter Mrs. Evangelist.) 

Mrs. Evangelist. 

1 thought as coming here, what time has wrought 

Within a few brief years; what may be hence 
From now, was also somewhat in my thought, 

But all in care of gracious Provide uce. 
You all, like me are happy, I confess 

That holy wedlock though not free from sorrow, 
Has great advantages and much may bless 

True hearts that are content and hope can borrow. 



68 

For hope is friend to man in every state, 
And often cheers him in a low condition, 

Is uncontrolled in all our mortal fate, 

And unconfined by circumstance or station. 

Mrs. Smith. 

You still were hopeful, happy sister, you 

Are wont, as angel, hope still to inspire, 
You suit the sphere you move in, kind and true, 

You point the drooping to a courage higher. 
A higher hope, a better world than this, 

A hope in life and death, for rich and poor, 
The Christian hope so full of endless bliss, 

The due reward of faithful souls secure. 
Thus happy you do good by influence given 

From highest source and best that we can know, 
And labor souls to qualify for heaven, 

By faith and works made manifest below. 



PHILADELPHIA. 

A POEM. 



Hail, Philadelphia ! city of the free, 
The patriot's heart will ever turn to thee ; 
From every land and country, every clime, 
Till in th' eternal sea rolls the full tide of time. 
In early youth, though far beyond the sea, 
My ardent breast beat high with thought of thee, 
As, marking careful th' historic page, — 
The faithful record of thy infant age, — 
I rapturous viewed the promise of thy spring, 
Whose buds and blossoms the ripe fruit did bring, 
That nations thrilled with ecstasy to see. 
As fairest on the tree of liberty. 
The Indian once roamed in thy happy shades, 
Thy forests unsubdued, thy watery glades,— 
Skimmed o'er thy rivers in his light canoe, 
Thy noble Delaware and Schuylkill, too ; 
And, gliding swift in each romantic scene 
That crowned the banks with living evergreen, 

(69) 



70 

And formed festooned the ever cool arcade 
Where songsters warbled, darkling in the shade, 
And blooming flowers exhaled a sweet perfume 
From deep recesses and dark wooded gloom. 
Where scarce the sun could dart a single ray 
"Midst tangled thickets hidden to the day. 
The children of the forest loved to stray 
By Wissahickon, and the live long day 
Would witness in its scenes so grand and wild 
The untiring gambols of the savage child, 
While peals of laughter boisterous rang out 
And echo loved to spread each merry shout. 
The cheerful song the red man oft would raise. 
In cadence mournful oft would hum the praise 
Of some departed chief in battle slain — ■ 
Lost to the tribe, ne'er to return again ; 
In council sage no more to lift his voice 
Or lead in strife the warriors of his choice. 
The war-whoop fierce now gone he hears no more, 
Resting in death beside the lonely shore, 
Where dancing and the song for him must cease, 
And in commotion's self he rests in peace. 
When noble Penn appeared in peaceful guise, 
His gentle mien struck with a sweet surprise 
Tli 1 untuor'd red man, drawn by cords of love 
Towards this meek follower of the Lord above. 
Who, far from courts and pomp beheld the race 
As fellow men, and, having once found grace, 



n 

Was well content with man to take his share, 
And act with justice, when the same was rare. 
Oh ! what a lesson to mankind was taught, 
Of dealing fair, and what a work was wrought 
By him, at once the father and the friend 
Of red men poor, rewarded in the end. 
When Pennsylvania yielded to his sway 
And willing hearts the master mind obey. 
Founder of that vast Commonwealth grown great, 
And destined to become the " Keystone State," 
Whose rich resources, mines and ores are found 
In great profusion treasured, and abound 
In quantities so huge that no compute 
Can put the question quite beyond dispute, 
Or tell, howe'er consumption's ratio tend, 
That nature's bounties e'er shall have an end, 
Or wealth exhausted, can be found no more, 
Howe'er her caverned depths we may explore. 
In Kensington the visitor may see 
The simple site where stood the " Treaty Tree" 
Where Penn, in equity, a compact made 
With Indians 'neath its pleasant, friendly shade, 
Which in this day all men should imitate, 
Who love fair justice, which is truly great. 
Penn rests in peace, the Indians are gone — 
The tree's no more, to mark the place, a stone— i 
But that transaction stands in bold relief, 
And of the lessons taught this is the chief, 



12 

And shines as beacon from a holy hill, 
That Philadelphians act with justice still, 
And Pennsylvania ever shall have cause 
To love her Penn, her institutions, laws. 
Thus, when the colonies with large increase 
Grew great and potent, fostered by sweet peace, 
Development was here more rapid found 
Than in the sister colonies around. 
A happy people prospered ; arts were spread. 
And manufacture rose; fair science led 
in Penn's loved city, proudly led the van, 
And Franklin gave the lightning to man 
For daily use, the message swift to send 
Around the sphere in circle without; end, 
Through savage wilds and ocean's stormy flood 
The omniscient power — an attribute of God, 
And space and time to science forced to yield, 
Left man, tho' feeble, master of the held, 
Flashed o'er th' obedient wire intelligence, 
That quick as thought bore messages from hence. 
Franklin " de coelo fuknen eripuit,"' it is said, 
Which means the lightning from the sky he led. 
To wrest the tyrant's rod, this, too, was his, 
By which is meant u sceptrumque tyrannis/ 1 
A simple slab points out the resting place 
Of one, the lasting wonder of his race, 
AVhose patent genius in his day was found. 
The wonder of the world, and still renowned; 



73 

His name with pride will never be forgot, 
Though this is often but the common lot. 
City renowned! my steps with reverence fall, 
And wake thy echoes, Independence Hall, 
Where patriots met to dare the tyrant's frown, 
And pull oppression's stately fabric down ; 
Whose joyous bell rang forth the tidings grand- 
" Let liberty prevail throughout the land." 
And tyrant's power be in the dust laid low, 
Prostrate beneath the patriot's ready blow, 
Till freedom reigns unshackled o'er the world, 
And each oppressor in the dust is hurl'd. 
Oh ! venerable pile, my thoughts in thee 
Were of thy sons, and of sweet liberty ; 
And it may be, I love thee even more 
Because my natal place was Erin's shore. 
Within thy sacred precincts I inspired 
That love of liberty which my heart fired, 
And sent me over many a bloody plain 
On which the nation's foes in heaps were slain, 
And ardent patriots for their country bled, 
Or fell no more to rise but from the dead, 
When power Divine awakes the scattered dust 
Of those who in the powerful Saviour trust. 
When in thy sacred precincts rose the tread 
Of armed men by ready patriots led, 
And all the Square was full of volunteers 
In arms, to dry away their country's tears, 



74 

And save the Union for posterity — 

My ardent heart beat high for liberty ; 

And, leaving home with all its objects dear, 

I followed far in freedom's bright career — 

Bled in the sacred cause and gave a sample 

Of such devotion as I found example 

In those who periled life the land to save, 

Alike prepared for victory or the grave. 

Within thy peaceful shade I linger still ; 

What thoughts sublime do yet my spirit fill — 

A nation disenthralled, the slave set free, 

And bondmen tasting sweets of liberty ! — 

A nation happy, smiling through her tears, 

And loving hands to dry Columbia's tears, 

Which grant, kiid Heaven, may never fall again ; 

For if they drop 'twill be like copious rain, 

Whose floods, is freshets, may sweep all away — 

The house, the home, the husbandman and hay, 

And with wide ruin, baleful and accursed 

Destroy each hope by the forefathers nursed — 

Uproot of liberty the sacred tree, 

And plunge the world in unknown misery. 

Seven hundred thousand souls swell th' amount 
Of those who dwell within the common count; 
Enlarged and vast the city seems to rise 
Upon the admiring view, and with surprise 



75 

The stranger sees the stately, solemn mien 
Of denizens whose very gait, I ween, 
Proclaims the sturdy, quiet, independent state 
Impressed by days of old, and Penn, the great. 
Thus, too, the merchant is both frank and free. 
Upright and honest in his dealing ; he 
Regards all subterfuge with haughty scorn, 
And stooped to nothing mean since he was born. 
Dissimulation he regards a vice — 
With dealing fair he holds a fixed price, 
And honorable, just, the bargain strikes 
With candor, which the veriest stranger likes. 
Thus reputation high each merchant gains, 
A character he carefully sustains. 
Precision strict prevails, e'en in the streets 
So prim and neat — the one the other meets 
At fair right angles, which the town divide — 
With shaded walks by trees on every side, 
While in the midst the rapid car rolls on, 
By stately horses o'er the pavement drawn ; 
Smooth on the iron rails it easy glides, 
And passengers are borne by easy rides 
On business, errands, pleasure, as may be, 
And land at destined points, conveniently. 



THE SONGSTRESS. 



o*Xo 



I wandered through the forest glade, 
With pensive thought and aching head. 

And heart overcome with grief; 
But as I sadly moved along, 
A tuneful warbler raised the song, 
The thick green foliage all among, 

And brought a sweet relief. 
So full of melody each note — 
So sweet it trilled from tuneful throat 

And filled my ravished ear, 
I paused, and in deep silence stood 
Alone amid the lonely wood, 
While music poured its ceaseless flood 

And made me breathless hear. 
The simple, sweet, and tuneful lay, 
That moved my heart so potently 

Was from a gentle bird ; 
Whose early efforts seemed to raise 
Its song in the Creator's praise, 

The sweetest notes e'er heard. 



And as I lingered near the spot. 
My spirit soothed, my grief forgot, 

I longed the bird to see ; 
And, turning round soon chanced to spy 
The elder bird on wing pass by 

And perch upon a tree. 
With quickening pulse and moving near 
I held my breath with very fear 

The young bird should have flown ; 
But, quickly to my sweet surprise 
It rose to my admiring eyes 

And higher perched alone. 
Then I beheld its beauty fair, 
Admiring gazed on plumage rare, 

And marked its every grace ; 
Its lovely head and brilliant eye, 
Its feathers of a varied dye, 

Most beauteous of its race. 
My wandering steps I then turned home, 
But often to the grove did roam 

Again to hear the song ; 
My moody mind was purified, 
My spirit cheered what might might betide, 

My weakness was made strong. 
The bird I loved, of cheerful lay, 
And lovely form, and plumage gay, 

Whose notes my spirit charmed, 



78 

It saw me oft and tamer grew. 
Nor would its airy flight pursue 

For fear it should be harmed ; 
Xow Heaven the pretty bird defend, 
And ma}^ it never want a friend, 

Or fall into a snare ; 
And as in time it finds a mate, 
May bliss and happiness await 
The comforts of the pairing state, 

So oft a state of care. 






TO JAMES LONG, Esq. 



oMXo 



Through Kensington I passed the other day, 
And 'mid the scenes that met my onward way, 
Your spacious factory loomed up right in view, 
And while I mused my thoughts recurred to } r ou. 
While busy hands industriously engage, 
My brain conceives what well may fill a page, 
Nor does the rapid shuttle quicker run 
Than works my mind when musing is begun. 
My thought a web more subtle far can weave, 
Than any looms your noisy factories have, 
Nor can your engine far exceed in power 
My active force, though creature of an hour ; 
And when your works and webs consume in dust 
To wear a costlier fabric is my trust ; 
Yea, while your house and warehouse perish too, 
A more enduring scene waits me and you. 
That I myself put first is the first time, 
You'd be preferred as just, but for my rhyme ; 
But poets, all concede, may well make free, 
Andoise yourself or friends, James, Kent, Santee, 

(79) 



80 

Whose spacious store, well stocked, is very ample, 
Themselves of courtesy a pleasing sample, 
And which invites the South and Western trade 
To purchase in our mart, where money's made; 
For Freedley proves that buyer here can find 
At lower price, the goods to suit his mind. 
But, as I said, while thinking much of you, 
My memory told me of a friend most true ; 
Of one whose prosperous days had higher aim 
Than wealth or honors, or than worldly fame, 
Which forward looked, in blessing to mankind, 
The cause to aid that disenthrals the mind ; 
That leads the weary wanderer back to God, 
And sets his feet upon the heavenly road. 
And, as I thought on this, the prayer went forth 
That all might full appreciate the worth, 
Which, with no stinted hand, doth still dispense, 
Its thousands in the true beneficence 
That builds the temple to Jehovah's praise, 
And read} 7 helps the glorious work of grace. 
To such ou earth be every blessing given, 
And may it meet a due reward in heaven ! 






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